by Riley Scott
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Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Other Books by Riley Scott
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Bella Books
Synopsis
Everyone’s favorite rock ’n’ roll bad girl has gone too far this time. Raven—loved by her millions of fans—suffers many sleepless nights and haunted memories, and years of hard living are beginning to take their toll. When scandal finally breaks, Raven is forced to hire a public relations guru to refine her image.
Christina Villanova is looking for a new challenge at work, and with Raven she’s certainly found one. She decides to take on what many others have failed: cleaning up Raven’s brand. Christina is undeniably drawn to Raven once she sees that Raven’s bravado masks her underlying passion. For her part, Raven seems hell-bent on maintaining her rough-around-the-edges facade, severely testing Christina’s cool professionalism.
As Raven’s behavior escalates dangerously, Christina realizes she’s not just fighting for Raven’s popularity, she’s fighting for Raven’s heart—and her future.
Copyright © 2016 by Riley Scott
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2016
eBook released 2016
Editor: Cath Walker
Cover Designer: Sandy Knowles
ISBN: 978-1-59493-490-2
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
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About the Author
In addition to having published poetry and short stories, Riley Scott has worked as a grant and press writer and a marketing professional. She holds a degree in journalism. A chunk of life spent in the Bible Belt has given her a close-up look at the struggles facing the LGBT community in Small Town, America, and she strives to bring these to light through her writing. Riley’s love for fiction began at a young age, and she has been penning stories for over a decade. She is a proud New Mexican with a passion for her partner (who, if you’ll note, is listed ahead of green chile), green chile, dogs, and lively literature. She lives in Albuquerque with her partner, two beloved dogs, and a cat who was part of the package but isn’t so bad once you get to know him.
Other Bella Books by Riley Scott
Conservative Affairs
Small Town Secrets
Dedication
To the readers who want to take a walk on the wild side and let their rebellion show, this book is for you—and of course for my love, my muse and the rock star of my heart, Heather.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book like Backstage Pass required a great deal of research—and roughout the past few months. Thank you to my friends who tagged along and made these experiences both memorable and informative. Additionally I would like to extend my gratitude to my fellow Bella Books authors whose insight and advice has served to make me a better, bolder writer. Special thanks to Erica Abbott, whose wisdom, humor and guidance stuck with me through writing some of the most difficult parts of this story. Thank you to Cath Walker for working hard to polish this story and to all of the Bella team for commitment to producing top-notch literature. And thank you most of all to the love of my life, whose patience and love during writing days—where I refuse to leave the house, speak in jumbled half sentences and drink enough coffee to become a frazzled mess if disturbed in the slightest—will always be appreciated.
Chapter One
Melissa Etheridge crooned out of the speakers in Christina’s room as she set to work packing the last of her essential items. As the remainder of the evening sun streaked through her curtains, she let out a sigh and sat on the edge of her bed, a mix of nervousness and excitement swirling in her head.
She belted out the lyrics, singing along to Melissa’s tune and trying to drown out her muddled thoughts. Though “Nowhere to Go” was the opposite of her current problem, the words were soothing and sang about finding home and a place in the arms of a kindred spirit.
She took a deep breath and glanced into her closet. It was difficult to decide what to take and what to leave behind when entering a world so different from her own. Forcing herself to pay attention, she sorted through clothing. She didn’t want to appear as if she was trying too hard to be edgy—or too professional. There had to be some mix.
“Brit,” she called out to her roommate down the hall. “Can you come help me for a minute?”
She waited until she heard footsteps, trying her best to don a game face, one that said she was ready for whatever she was about to conquer.
“What can I do for you,” her peppy, blond roommate asked, poking her head into Chris’s room, “aside from returning this little guy?” She held out Paco, Chris’s tiny dog, as if he were a peace offering. His tan fur stood up in tufts from his recent bath, his ears drooped, and his big brown eyes made the perfect “sad puppy dog” look complete.
“Hey buddy,” Chris said, taking him into her arms. “I’m sorry. He must have sought refuge in your room. He hates it when I pack. Typical Chihuahua.”
“I know,” Brittany said with a shrug. “Don’t worry about a thing. We are going to be just fine while you’re out on the road, living it up.”
Brittany reached out and patted her on the shoulder, looking closely at Chris. Her touch was tender, her smile soft. Her gentle approach told Chris her game face was failing miserably. Chris looked into Brittany’s sky-blue eyes, smiling at how they sparkled in the light, exuding warmth and a touch of mischief. She also remembered those blue eyes shining with desire and longing—and brushed the thought aside.
“I don’t know if I should have accepted this opportunity,” Chris admitted quietly, again taking a seat on the bed.
“Come on,” Brittany encouraged, sitting next to her. “You were so excited when you found out they chose you. In fact, you didn’t stop talking about it for a week. It’s a once in a lifetime chance, remember?”
“You’re rig
ht,” Chris said, nodding and trying to resume her initial confidence. “There were several firms up for the job and they chose mine. And beyond that, my boss put me on the task.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded more like she was making a grocery list than recounting her greatest professional accomplishment.
“You are a PR superhero,” Brittany said, her bright smile spreading across her face with ease. “You’re the same woman who single-handedly saved the mayor’s transportation project from public doom. You made the kid who smashed the windows of his school into a model citizen when his rich parents hired you. You turned around the reputation of that tech company whose products blew up in consumers’ hands. And most importantly, you represented…” Brittany paused for dramatic effect and used her fingers to create a drum roll on the bed. “Superstar baseball player, Tom Stella, in his doping case.”
Chris listened as Brittany regaled her accomplishments, savoring the way Brittany viewed her. It was incredible to be so loved, so entirely accepted and applauded all the time. It meant even more because she knew Brittany had seen her at her worst and still saw her in that light.
“Seriously, I’ve seen you take on some of the toughest cases—the most intense crisis situations—and leave everyone smiling when you walk off the scene,” Brittany continued. “Whether you’re working your magic with words and penning crafty statements or staging publicity events, you are the best at what you do. You’ve got this. It’ll be cake for you and not only that, you also get to party with a rock star.”
“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Chris said, giving voice to her fears. “I know I can turn things around for this girl. She’s clearly smart, she’s talented beyond all belief, she puts on great shows and she’s beautiful. She’s a household name who sells out the biggest venues, but she’s just done a good job of running her name into the ground. I can work with her and I have little doubt about that. I’m just worried that I don’t really know how to behave in that world.”
Brittany laughed and the sound helped calm Chris’s nerves. “You know exactly what to do,” she said with a wink. The move was subtle but served as another reminder that Brittany’s friendship was more. “You’re going to have wild sex parties and snort some blow.”
“That was one time,” Chris said, her joke easing the tension completely. As they both broke into a fit of giggles, Brittany stood and looked at Chris’s closet.
“Is this what you wanted help with?” she asked, pointing. “Trying to find the balance between the stripper and the businesswoman?”
“You know me too well,” Chris said with a shrug. “I just don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, in either direction.”
“Just go and be you,” Brittany offered. “You’re the coolest person I know and you’re my favorite party buddy, as well as my favorite PR professional. Just go and rock it.” As she spoke, she flipped through the closet, selecting a few items that seemed to fit the bill perfectly.
“These,” she said, holding up a pair of faded, ripped jeans and a tight black shirt, “are for the evenings, the night shows. And these,” she added, holding up a pair of darker jeans and a red, silky, scooped-neck blouse that showed too much cleavage to wear on a normal workday, “for when you need to dress up. Also be sure to take a pair of slacks and a jacket, just in case you have to go on camera. You never know if the girl is going to go off the deep end and need you to comment on her behalf.”
“I knew you’d save the day,” Chris said appreciatively, standing to give her a hug.
“No,” Brittany said, pulling back from the hug. “I’m just the style guru. You’re going to be the one to save the day. Now, stop doubting yourself, put this stuff in a bag and go kick some ass. But most importantly, go have a blast.”
Reassured, she knew Brittany was right. There was no need for her to go into this with anything other than her usual confidence and optimism. There was a reason that they had chosen her and she was going to prove them right, whatever it took. Until then, she was going to snuggle Paco for another night and try her best to get a good night’s rest.
“Have I showed you the schedule?” she asked, prolonging the interaction for a while longer. She was going to miss her best friend—the constant in her life who made her feel at home in the world. She thought again about Melissa Etheridge’s song and how she sang of asking someone to dance with her forever. Confusion lingered in her mind as she eyed Brittany, wondering if that was why she would miss her.
She noted Brittany’s smile and felt her heart flutter. She couldn’t tell if it was out of familiarity and warmth or something deeper and unsettling. Regardless, she would miss this—the ease with which they spoke, the tender hugs. She would even miss the longing glances and tension-filled moments as they felt out exactly what their relationship or lack thereof looked like.
“I think you’ve showed me six times, but run it by me again.” Brittany’s laughter filled the room as she sat down on the bed again. She reached over and patted Chris’s shoulder, and the touch sent shivers through Chris’s body. Things would never be the same between them again. But she couldn’t figure out what they should be. She glanced at the schedule, hoping that her time on the road would provide some clarity for their current situation. Either she would miss Brittany and know she was the one, or she would find freedom and new connections in new places.
“We start out in Austin, and we hit most major cities in the southwest over the course of a month.” She harnessed her attention to the matter at hand. “And that’s just if Susan thinks I’ve done what I need to do after a month. She could make me stay two, three or even more months. If I stay for the full two months they’ve got scheduled, that will be twenty-four shows, eight weeks and seven states. She’s playing three shows a week and covering a lot of territory. For some unknown reason, we go from Texas to Arizona, back to New Mexico, back to Arizona for a concert she is doing with the kid who won American Idol last year, then California, Nevada, Utah and finally Colorado and Oklahoma. At this point, it’s impossible to even guess where I could end up, let alone what weather or timing will be beyond those two months. It’s exhausting to even put it into my planner.”
“Then ditch the planner and just enjoy the ride.”
“Easier said than done,” Chris said, shaking her head.
“I know. Pack for the long haul but be optimistic. Maybe you will be back in just a few weeks.” Brittany patted her on the knee and stood. “One more thing,” she added, standing in the doorway. “You might want to start listening to something a little more hardcore. Something tells me your girl is going to like it more if you can sing along to her songs.”
“I can growl, yell angrily, shoot whiskey and tell the world to fuck off with the best of them,” Chris said, brushing it off. “Besides, we both know that I’m a fan.”
“Yeah, I know,” Brittany responded, winking as she walked out the door. “Don’t show her just how often you fantasize about her while you’re out there on the road with her. It’ll add to that big ego of hers and make you seem like a bit of a lovesick pup.”
Chris laughed, shaking her head and shutting her door. One thing she was sure of was that she was definitely not going to let Raven know just how big a fan she was, or how much she had crushed on the singer throughout her late teens and early twenties—for the last decade of her twenty-eight years. The rest she could figure out along the way.
“Go get ’em, champ,” she whispered the words to herself, smiling sadly and wishing that her dad was still around to give her his usual pep talk before every big life event until he had passed away two years ago. She cued on his strength that still lived in her. She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, letting her excitement about tomorrow come back and her anxiety subside.
* * *
Thankful for the dark light in her bus bathroom, Raven looked into the mirror, taking special note of how her eyeliner was smeared down the side of her face, making her brown eyes look even darker. Her long, dark hair was
a tousled mess, its natural waves refusing to cooperate. She tried unsuccessfully to pick through the strands with her fingers. With a sigh, she moved on to the next task. As deftly as her hangover would allow, she cleared the black goop from her face with a makeup remover wipe, her clean face showing off angular features that were often termed ‘exotic’ in the press.
She wanted to laugh about it and would have done so if she had an audience. However she could barely manage to keep her eyes open. She removed the rest of last night’s makeup and expertly reapplied another coat.
“Never let them see you weak or unprepared,” she whispered to her reflection. “Even if it’s just for rehearsal,” she added to no one in particular.
The beating on the bus door came again and she wanted to tell Frank Karnes—her manager—to go to hell. She took a deep breath instead and glanced in the mirror, thankful that her bitchy face needed no extra coaching today.
“What?” she asked angrily, throwing the door open to Frank’s hand hanging in midair.
“You’re late,” he said, his bald head gleaming in the afternoon sun, the lines of frustration showing out of the side of his sunglasses, and his wide forehead wrinkling even more than usual. “That’s what.” His gruff tone indicated that he was in no mood for nonsense today.
The corners of her lips turned up slightly at the thought. Aside from the roar of a crowd, the powerful riff of a quality song or the way that she knew that no matter what she did, he would stand by her side, there was little that brought her as much delight as his little panic attacks over nothing.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said with a shrug. “We all know that we’re going to play the same set as last night and we killed it last night. I’ve got this. Besides, tell Pete that he should practice without the rest of us. He’s the one struggling.”